Reblog If U Want Anonymous Dms And Asks ;)

Reblog if u want anonymous dms and asks ;)

No. The dozens of bags of Halloween candy in my cart aren't for the trick-or-treaters. The hundreds of thousands of calories in caramel, chocolate, nougat, cream, and just pure sugar aren't for the eager kids who'll come by my house next month.

They're for the lovely hog that lives in my house. The one who lays on my couch with a stomach that weighs nearly twice as much as me. The one who can't get to their feet without audibly groaning in exertion as they try to will their legs to work. The one who wears shirts that barely cover their chest, but can't even begin to cover the absolute yoga ball of a stomach that they've developed. The one who asks me to rub their belly when their arms can no longer reach the swollen front of it after a hearty stuffing session.

The one who I'm going to put in a tight, sexy costume and help hand feed the candy to on Halloween night, only stopping when the costume's seams finally pop and all the weight we just packed into them becomes easily visible as their rolls fall forward.

i want to take you to dinner. all you can eat buffet.

we walk in and your shirt is already snug. i find a booth in the corner and squeeze into the side across from you. i’m slim, but i’m pressed against the table. i can’t imagine how you feel heaving the gut i grew around.

i’m in charge of filling your plate. you can’t afford to burn unnecessary calories. i won’t let you. i doubt you’ll be able to stand after i’m done with you, anyways, so there’s no point in trying.

i hand you the first course. it’s more food than most people can eat in a sitting, but it’s just your appetizer. i grab a salad - something light and easy - to snack on while you begin trudging your way towards fullness. i like to watch you take each bite. my leg brushes against yours beneath the table.

we keep doing this over and over again: me piling more and more food on your plate, you licking it clean before i give you a moment of reprieve to undo a button while i go back for the next round. you’re panting and struggling to regain your composure. the shirt you slipped on is now riding up, and no matter how often you pull it down, you find it curved over the line of your stuffed belly.

and oh how stuffed you’ve gotten. i knew you’d struggle against the confines of the booth, but i had no idea just how big you’d get after four courses at the buffet. your shirt is riding up, you’re panting and clutching your swollen gut, and the table presses against the curve of your belly. your eyes plead with me to grant reprieve, so, finally, i slide next to you and begin to dote.

i whisper soft affirmations and run smooth circles over the swell of your belly. you’re packed so tightly that the typically soft surface is taut. the way i’m looking at you can only be described as hungry; you would know. you know people are staring at our scene, but i am not shy about my gentle affection. the way i touch you is intimate.

finally, i help you rise out of the booth. you’re struggling to catch your breath, and i keep a hand on your side with the pride of a farmer leaving the county fair with her blue ribbon pig.

i can only take so much credit. i filled the plate, but you finished it and asked for more.

when we get home, i’ll be the one eating you up 💕

if you put a vibrator wand underneath an angels wing right where it connects with the shoulder blade you can make her cum so hard she goes blind btw

Dear Supporter,

I hope this message finds you and your family in good health. My name is Eman Zaqout from Gaza. I am reaching you out to seek your urgent help in spreading the word about our fundraiser. I lost both my home and my job due to the ongoing genocide in Gaza and we are facing catastrophic living conditions. 💔

I kindly ask you to visit my campaign. Your support, whether through donating or sharing, will help us reach more people who can make a difference. Thank you for your continued support for the Palestinian cause. Your dedication brings us closer to freedom. 🙏🕊

Note: Verified by several people as 90-ghost and aces-and-angels. ☑

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write about someone being blackmailed to gain weight and hating watching it happen to themselves? ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

That stupid letter.

"68kg by the end of the month. Or else I air your dirty laundry."

Dread had been clear on your face as you reread it half a dozen times. Truth be told, you were convinced you could work off the pounds the minute the black mail ended, whenever that would be.

You'd bulked up your shopping list to includes chips, cookies, brownies, cakes, milkshakes, processed and sugary foods practically dripping with calories. After nearly 10 minutes of staring, you'd finally begun working your way through the calories.

Now here you were, 3/4s of the way through the month and your pants had begun to ache on your waist. Each chew brought your newly made double chin bobbing on your collarbone and a disgusted grimace on your face. Your shirt has ridden up a good deal now, showing your potbelly that had swollen to rest on your legs. Friends had shot you dirty glances and judgemental stares and you were well aware why.

Before, you'd have been being praised for your slim figure, but here you were, laying on your couch with a stomach that felt like a stone weighing you down in place. The box of donuts rested on the crest of your swollen gut and the cream filling had dribbled down your chins, but you knew you still had a dozen or so pounds to go. With a strained groan, you got up to grab your phone and order a pizza. Nothing fit any more, and a pair of sweatpants had gone from "barely used" to "hanging on by a thread" as your body bloated from all the unused calories.

Your belly swung as you stumbled forward, grabbing a table for support as you moved with sluggish steps to your phone. The minute this was over, you'd be right back at the gym, working off every pound, fighting to get yourself back to that slim figure you knew so well. Then you wouldn't look a bloated swine.

Though the end of the month came. And all you got was another letter. And this one proclaimed no release. Instead, proclaiming:

"70kg. End of next month. Make it happen."